[P] let there be light, oh let me be right;

[Florentine]

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She waits and it feels like an eternity – even for a girl for whom Time is a navigable sea to anywhere.
 
But Florentine waits, she waits as if she has sailed to the ends of Time and clings as she gazes, nearly toppling, into nothingness. Worry trembles in her stomach. Her nerves are as choppy as the sea, her heart made of things as easily swept aside as spider silk.
 
What if he says no? Such thoughts shadow the outline of her gaze. They set shadows billowing in her gaze. So soon her lungs are aching with the breath she dare not exhale.
 
Though eternity stretches in her gaze (as she looks to him – to where he watches the volcano) his answer comes swiftly, his gaze chasing it as he looks back to her. It is no answer alone, but a vow, a pledge and it has his sister smiling. She presses her grin deep into his neck, until her lashes close beneath the tangle of his mane.
 
Here she is buried until it is only the scents of family that ground her. Here where the bonds that bind her are not just magic and Time but family and blood. Asterion is sea-born and home.
 
“I did not think you would say yes,” She murmurs into his skin. Her smile will not be moved, it is a rock and Florentine thinks it might weather any storm. “You are by far the more responsible of us both.”
 
For a moment Florentine is content, silence hangs between them and though they are still, though a volcano darkens their sky in violence and drama, her mind is full of other things. Meetings and reunions have her spirits drifting higher. If his heart plummets, Florentine’s might be the one to lift his up. “I will hold you to that, you know.” she says slowly, slyly, her gaze searching out his. No longer is her smile wide and joy, but smaller, more challenging. “I will have my reunion, brother.”
 
And her laughter rings as the volcano groans. Magic swells within her, within the bowels of the rising island. Asterion’s muzzle presses against her side and the child kicks again, protesting against the touch.
 
Magic. He says and Florentine’s nose wrinkles her laughter growing shorter, more rueful. “I am not sure magic so much as irresponsible love making.” Yet she is touching her side too, gently, joyfully. She draws back as the child falls still – such a spirited creature already.  “Daddy was not around to tell you, so let me, always be responsible Asterion. Always. Otherwise unplanned surprises come kicking.”
 
Now her eyes drift back to the volcano. Was it building and pushing them toward an unknown destruction? Her dagger feels warm against her chest, she is glad to have it, “Soon.” The girl murmurs, “And yet, nowhere near soon enough. I have been having terrible heartburn and hot flushes and I need to pee every five minutes. The midwife says it makes some women feel glamorous but what glamorous whales do you know?” And at last her smile is gone, a pout drawing along the curve of her gilded lips. Her eyes glimmer, laughter lingers there – oh, this baby may have been unplanned, her pregnancy a challenge and yet, it was safe to say, she would not change it for the world.


@Asterion - hahahaha

florentine
rocking your pretty flower world